


Nipples

by KittyViolet



Category: Excalibur (Comic), New Mutants (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Bad Puns, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, Nipple Play, Outer Space, Polyamory, Puns & Word Play, Technological Kink, Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyViolet/pseuds/KittyViolet
Relationships: Kitty Pryde/Illyana Rasputin, Kitty Pryde/Illyana Rasputin/Rachel Summers, Kitty Pryde/Rachel Summers
Kudos: 11





	Nipples

“This sucks,” Rachel said.

“Finally,” Kate answered. The mic in her spacesuit scrambled her voice a little, but Rachel would recognize that cadence anywhere, even over shortwave and through headphones. “It had better suck now. If it took any longer to get this containment hose attached I’d wonder whether I should have minored in plumbing.”

Hovering just outside the Blackbird 4, the red-haired mutant used her telekinesis to fasten one end of the hose back into the spaceship, keeping her eye on the seal; Kate slowly screwed in the other, remaining solid as she did so, until the hose was secure.

“What did Hank call it?” Rachel asked, almost tonguing the mic in her suit. Kate could see Rachel’s bob, orange-red in the starlight, super-cute, super-competent. Soft butch, she thought. Hard-edged but soft butch. Categories confused her. Curves and strength attracted her.

“Neutron Intromission Propulsion System,” Kate said. “That’s the informal name—the astroxenoengineers call it Neutron Intromission Propulsion/ Proton -Lepton Emission. The important thing is that it works.”

“It only works if it sucks.” Rachel turned the knob until the hose grew stiff: the gas exchange was on. The new space vehicle, docked against the Starjammers’ familiar, shiny curves, looked almost ready to take off, though it wasn’t going anywhere yet. "Do you have enough light?"

Tugging on her tether, Kate brought herself closer to the installation panel. "No. Lamp, Rach?"

The spacewalk packs came with four graded lamp intensities. That way the spacewalkers wouldn't dazzle themselves by shining more than their work required, nor would they have to squint painfully in the dark. The lowest intensity was A. Kate calculated as her partner moved carefully towards her. "I think I'll need a C-lamp. Anything else would hurt."

Rachel flicked a helmet switch with her tongue. "C-lamp. Perfect. That didn't hurt at all. Didn't hurt my eyes, I mean." Both women nodded. They could inspect the panel now; A-OK.

"Mission Control here." Rictor was having fun with it. "Are we good?"

Both Kate and Rachel pushed their thumbs into their palms, turning on a green light in the ship: yes, we're good. Besides the mic and the other controls in the helmet there was a primitive Morse-code-style signal built into the gloves, for yes-no questions: aye-push, nope-pull. 

Kate thought about some of the first novels she ever read, tales of kids and teens on innocent space adventures, making the starships go. Now she was living them. But having more fun.

“Ready to come back in and watch the test drive?” Scott asked, sounding almost jaded. Kate let herself float free of the hose and its round ducts, making sure to stay on her cord.

Kate would never get tired of space, not even after the scariest experience of her life had taken place there: the pull of the stars, of adventure alongside comrades, was too strong. Though she had resolved never to live there. The shining, beckoning voids between the stars were places to come and visit. And they were still almost new, and amazing, to Rachel, who had experienced space before—she fought Galactus, for anyone-but-Pete’s sake!—but who had rarely seen much fun there. 

That’s why the two of them were suited up and out for the spacewalk. That and Rachel’s telekinesis and Kate’s ability to phase and disrupt electronics; if anything went wrong, these were the two mutants who could certainly get out alive.

“Almost ready,” Kate said, and saw Rachel nod, smiling. “Give us a sec.” Rachel trailed her safety cord till she was farther away from the ship than Kate, till only Kate could see Rachel’s face. 

“Thirsty work,” Rachel said, and drank from her nipple. Not her own nipple, of course. The spacesuit, like most spacesuits, had a water pouch that attached to a plastic nipple, so that an astronaut could avoid dehydration. Or suck down white wine, if she were to fill the pouch with such an inappropriate liquid.

Not that Rachel would. She was drinking water. Or sucking down water. And Kate knew just how much, and when, because every time Rachel tongued the nipple in her helmet, Kate felt the tongue on her own nipple. Just as, every time Kate drank water from the specially-wired nipple in her own suit, Rachel felt the gentle pleasure of Kate’s lips around her own areola, sipping, taking pleasure, carefully latching on. A simple bit of sympathetic cross-wiring, executed under the guise of adapting the servo interface, and Kate and Rachel had matching spacesuits wired nipple to nipple, one helmet’s drinking pouch to the other’s sensitive chest. A binary randomizer determined which breast felt each pull; surge protectors prevented the accidental bite.

Rachel Grey-Summers had figured it out very quickly: each time she drank water while spacewalking with Kate—and this one was their third spacewalk—the wavy-haired Jewish mutant shivered and shuddered. Two drinks in a row meant two shudders. And once Kate started to drink from her own nipple, taking long, regular pulls, Rachel’s whole body could feel it.

Suspended in space, safe on cords, away from the Blackbird 4 and the Starjammer with time to spare, Kate and Rachel nearly bumped their clear round helmets together before they began to drift slowly apart from each other, like two yo-yos on two strings, held in the same hand. But they had time to read each other’s faces close up. Without even having to read Kate’s mind, Rachel knew they had made an agreement. One sip, then the other. One nip, then the other. One long drink, and then the other. By the time the other spacefaring X-Men reeled them in, they’d be half-drunk and half-dizzy and blushing all over from all the nipple stimulation. They’d have to run off to their shared room and see if the lower halves of their bodies could respond, indoors and maybe in zero gravity, to what their ribs and breasts and jaws and lips and eyes and souls already knew.

“Can we push your cord out a bit?” Scott interrupted their dreamscape.

“Nah… pull,” Kate said, smiling.

“Rictor made dinner,” Scott said. “Let us know when you’re ready to come in. Burritos, with chicken mole and nopales.”

Another intercom channel broke through, even as Kate determined to keep her eyes closed as the spacewalk came to an end.

“That’s Italy down there,” Warbird was saying, to someone. “The coastline’s so beautiful. Look, that’s Rome. And Milan, and Naples.”

Only one mutant was unimpressed: Rictor himself. "I've always wanted to see the Himalayas," he mumbled. "How long till we get Nepal?"

Then Kate stopped trying to focus on her teammates inside the ship, because Rachel had figured out exactly how many other things her tongue could do. Like any up-to-date astronaut helmet, this one allowed the wearer not just to drink water from a pouch, but to press buttons and levers with a lingual flex, with a side-to-side slide or a push from the tip of the tongue. In a normal spacesuit-- and in this pair of suits-- those controls would turn on lights, activate servos, enable or disable magnets and latches in gloves. In this pair the tongue control could do a number of other things as well, to the paired-up suit rather than to the wearer's own. And Rachel was finally figuring that part out.

She must have been flicking and flexing... that lever... no, that one... both nipples... oh.... oh.... OH. A trickling spring began between Kate's legs, and then an oscillation of joy, the suit contracting, shifting, shaping itself, as if her lover were truly reaching inside. (And Rachel, Kate knew, must be feeling it the other way: she was growing a part that could penetrate Kate remotely, bigger and harder and slicker as the artificial part could move around inside Kate through the reaches of outer space. Kate bit her own tongue to avoid sending signals to Scott and the rest, and biting the tongue, even softly, sent signals to Rachel's suit, and Rachel gasped, and Kate cooed, quietly, still drifting in space with Rachel, still tethered safely to the Blackbird 4, getting close to the edge, feeling more alive than ever among the stars.

Now the spring was a running brook, a wet, yes, vibration, Rachel must be feeling bigger, powerful, as (Kate tongued a few levers she had neglected earlier) the base of the prosthetic in Rachel's spacesuit started to press back against her own strong body. Everything between Kate’s collarbone and her pelvis felt beautifully open, excited, ready to get out of the spacesuit and lay bare for her hungry lover.

Or one of her hungry lovers. This excited, this far away from Illyana, this close to involuntarily phasing from the sexual heat, this close to the orbit of an excited telepath (Rachel’s tongue did that thing again, and was the crotch interface now fully engaged? What kind of dirty-minded paired suits had Kate built?), Kate felt telepathically linked to her other serious girlfriend, almost as if the soulsword had emerged. Illyana’s mind couldn’t be read through telepathy, though, and Kate was hardly able to pry that way. Maybe some kind of communicative magic, sent from Illyana’s place back on Earth.... Kate closed her eyes, and opened them, and saw that Rachel had closed her eyes too.

It was time to let the ship reel them in. Both Kate and Rachel felt their suits connecting with the airlocks, the pressurized parts opening up together, the light but nonzero gravity coming back. Kate and Rachel looked each other in the eye as the servos lifted off their bubble helmets. Rachel tongued that plastic nipple just once more as it receded into the suit collar; Kate shuddered and grinned, just once more.

Maybe Kate's favorite part of this whole spacewalk foreplay thing was that nobody except the two of them-- and probably Illyana-- knew it had happened. Kate and Rachel would be headed back to quarters, stat. Kate noticed the unusual outline on Rachel’s space-ready pressure undergarment, and the slight tilt to Rachel’s hips. The woman who had been the Phoenix and survived was open now, excited, out of her usual wary mode, ready to play.

“Do you want to see pictures of some, or any, of what we’re doing?” Kate thought at Illyana, certain that whatever magical soulsword-thread-link was connecting them at the moment could carry the query to Earth.

“Some, or any?” Illyana replied. “Nope. All.”

The slight Russian accent made Kate-- now tonguing her own teeth and waiting to kiss Rachel on the lips— smile very broadly. 

Kate and Rachel almost ran down the corridor, almost giggling, almost satisfied with what they had already done for each other, out on their spacewalk, touching nothing but nipples. Now they could touch however they might want. And afterwards, they could catch up on their sleep. They wouldn’t even need to take any nap pills.


End file.
